Regrets and Mistakes
by MischievousCuriosity
Summary: Dumbledore is good. So why is he not worried when news comes of Harry's abuse? As new regrets and mistakes rein, Dumbledore will find an enemy where he least expects it, and a new mysterious presence on the Dark side will bring fear and change to the war. UP FOR ADOPTION. See profile for info.
1. Prologue: The Dark Leader of the Light

Prologue: The Dark Leader of the Light

**I'm not sure why I'm writing this. I already know that there are A LOT of abusive Dursley stories that are kind of like this; I've read and reviewed almost all the ones I could find. I just had to write one. And yes, this will be manipulative Dumbledore. The setting is summer after sixth year. It's AU, I know, but Mr. Weasley died and Sirius and Dumbledore survived. I can't seem to bring myself to kill Sirius in any of the HP stories I come up with. He's my favorite character! WARNING: May contain Weasley bashing. Probably will. Most likely will have SLASH!  
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**DISCLAIMER: Okay, seriously? This is getting ridiculous. You think that if I were J.K. Rowling, I'd be on fanfiction? No. I'd be figuring out how to spend my extensive fortune and wondering how long it will be until I decide that life is simply too boring without the world of Harry Potter and figure out that writing more books is a seriously good idea.**

**888888**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a very smart man.

Too smart. And all too eager to do _anything _to keep his position as the most influential, highly respected, Light-inclined magical person in Britain.

Wit and power- a dangerous combination. So when Sybil Trelawney made a prophecy that a _child- _Light or not- was going to defeat the Dark Lord; Albus was furious. This mere child was going to take down the only wizard that could possibly overcome Dumbledore. This mysterious wizard could easily overthrow him after killing Voldemort; no, no, this would not do _at all. _

So Albus 'borrowed' a time-turner from the Ministry and went back to the time that the prophecy was spoken. He knew that Severus had been outside the door, and he knew he was planning on telling the Potters (whose son was a prime suspect) and using Occlumency to hide it from the Dark Lord.

Albus snorted as he spotted Severus leaning silently against the door. _It's a pity I have to do this- but he'll never agree if Lily's involved._

Albus pointed his wand at the spy and muttered a quick _Imperio. _Severus immediately stood stock-still, and his eyes glazed over. Albus focused on making Severus repeat the prophecy, or what he heard of it, to the Dark Lord. Severus looked confused for a moment, but Albus concentrated and focused even more magic into the spell, and Severus' expression cleared. He walked promptly out the inn and didn't even acknowledge the Headmaster, whom he pushed out of the way in his rush to the door.

Albus dusted himself off. Now he just had to let the Dark Lord do the rest.

**888888**

His Lily. His dear, sweet Lily. All gone. All _his fault. _

Severus didn't know what came over him. He had his suspicions about an Imperious curse, but he should have been able to throw it off. He should have been able to do something.

And now Lily was dead, the Longbottoms tortured to insanity, and an orphaned Harry Potter was going to live with the 'worst sort of muggles imaginable' according to Minerva.

Needless to say, Severus would rather bury himself in a hole than feel the guilt that was consuming him now.

However, though committing suicide was favorable, he would rather not go to Hell just yet.

So Severus Snape drank his worries away. He saw life through a twisted haze of clouded thoughts and empty firewhisky bottles.

The liquor usually managed to keep him occupied until exhaustion set in. But then, with his mind desperately trying to calm his fevered thoughts, he would always fall asleep with a pair of verdant green eyes ridden with undisguised anguish.

**888888**

**Ergh, that last part was a bit dark for me. I prefer writing stories with a light tone. Oh well.**

**Yes, I **_**know **_**it's a short prologue. But I just wanted it to set up the story. And it didn't fit in with the next chapter. No complaining! I'll have the next chapter up soon, and I know for a fact that it'll be longer than this one. And reviews and critiques are all fine and dandy, but if you want to send a flame, you'd better have a valid excuse. If you don't like manipulative or evil Dumbledore, fine, but you didn't have to read it. It says what it's going to have in it in the summary and my first AN! So don't give me a flame unless it's constructive!**

**My apologies for ranting-**

**MC**


	2. New Discoveries and Revelations

Chapter One: New Discoveries and Revelations

**Hola me amigos! I know I haven't updated in an insanely long time, and I won't make any excuses. I was simply too lazy and didn't have enough inspiration to write anything. So I've been jotting down notes and snippets of ideas and daydreams and such. Chew me out if you want, but updates should be coming more frequently soon. The plot bunnies have returned (Much to my delight and slight anger- why can't they stay all the time?) and most of my stories will be gaining new chapters. **

**DISCLAIMER: To my complete, utter disappointment, I do not own any of these wonderful characters. Though I suppose it's a good thing, I would not be able to weave such a complex plotline as she.**

**888888**

"- DESERVE EVERYTHING YOU GET, UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FREAK!" Uncle Vernon hurled Harry into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry's head smashed sharply into the wall, making him see stars. Vernon sneered at him; which would have been quite comical, considering the shade of plum his face had turned; but Harry was bruised and broken and _still _had chores to do. That is, he would when Petunia discovered he wasn't doing anything.

This was life in Privet Drive, and it never would change. None of the neighbors ever suspected, no one would. After all, why would anything abnormal ever happen in the picture-perfect neighborhood of Little Whinging? And surely not with such a fabulous family as the Dursleys.

Harry laughed bitterly. And he had too much Gryffindor pride to confess that he, the powerful Boy-Who-Lived, was being abused by _muggles. _

Malfoy would have a field day.

Harry was jolted from his thoughts when quick, sharp footsteps clicked down the hall. _Petunia, damn it. _He hadn't even been able to check on his injuries.

"Get out!" His aunt rapped on the door. "Go plant the roses!"

That was it. No 'are you okay?' or 'are you able to do such and such?' Harry sighed internally and slowly emerged from the cupboard. He limped down the hall, out the door, and started on the roses.

Harry's thoughts wandered again while he was working. His friends had not written to him, even though he had sent Hedwig to everyone, even Dumbledore.

Harry was beginning to get suspicious. Ever since the fiasco at the Ministry in fifth year, Dumbledore had gotten increasingly watchful of Harry. He sent people to follow him around school, had aurors on the grounds, and called Harry into his office once a week to discuss how he was doing.

Harry was beginning to think it wasn't for his own health.

Dumbledore was spying on him, trying to learn if Harry was a threat or not.

It was driving him insane.

Harry was so lost in thought that he didn't notice when the thorns scratched his ungloved hands, or when blood gushed from various wounds and fell to dot the deep green leaves, or the pair of watchful, concerned eyes studied him from across the street.

**888888**

Arabella Figg was not really a serious person. She didn't really care if people ridiculed her for her actions, because Arabella was old and had earned her right. So far, nothing had made her regret her decision.

Until Harry Potter came to live at the Dursleys.

Now Dumbledore did not believe her, and no one else in the Order did either.

Arabella stomped past the witches and wizards angrily, and returned to the fireplace. With a grumbled address and a flash of light, she was back home.

As soon as the flames died down, Arabella rushed to the window. The boy was still there, working hard in the garden. Arabella looked over him sadly. Harry was much too thin, covered in bruises, and…

Arabella hastily rubbed her glasses and adjusted them. Was that… blood running down his hands?

Arabella's eyes widened in shock. This was too far. She needed to tell someone, _anyone. _But everyone thought she was insane.

Arabella dropped her head into her hands and wept.

**888888**

Harry flopped onto his cot heavily. His feet hung off the end, and his head was pushed up against the wall uncomfortably. He ran his pale fingers over one of the new bruises, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through his body.

How did he manage not to go a single day without getting beaten? Harry hadn't even messed anything up this time. Vernon just took some sadistic pleasure in clubbing Harry senseless.

Harry sighed and watched a spider crawl across the sheets. His uncle had moved him back to the cupboard after the Ministry incident, when Harry had foolishly let something slip about the wizarding world ignoring him. His treatment had steadily gotten worse, and the Dursleys had slowly gained courage.

Now he was stuck until school started, and his haven reopened.

Harry closed his eyes and fell into sleep's warm caress, dreaming about roaming the halls of his beloved Hogwarts.

**888888**

Harry woke with a start. He could have sworn he heard the telltale sounds of apparation, but there were no wizards in the area and the Order wasn't going to pick him up until his birthday.

Harry scrambled out of bed and peeked out of the vent in his cupboard door. He could just barely see out of the corner of the window in the living room. Dark shapes flitted between bushes and trees. Harry counted around fifteen of them. He had no idea of what they were, they weren't Dementors or Death Eaters, only the Order and muggles could get past the wards.

Three of the people stepped towards the house and reached the door. Harry lost sight of them and gripped his wand tightly. He hadn't allowed his relatives to lock it away; he needed it.

He heard the muffled _click _of the door unlocking and tensed.

_One…_

Low voices conversed quietly, and the speakers' footsteps came quickly into the entryway.

_Two…_

One of the people started down the hallway. Their shoes made light thumping noises against the carpet. Harry's breath quickened.

_Three…_

Harry leapt out of his cupboard and slammed the intruder against the wall. The person's hood slipped, and Harry dropped his wand in shock.

"_Moody_?"

Alastor Moody opened his scarred mouth to reply, and Harry suddenly grew aware of the two other presences behind him. He spun and reached for his wand, but it lay a few feet away.

Harry listened, detached, as the stunning spell was spoken. Before he fell, though, he caught sight of Dumbledore's grandfatherly features staring down at him. "I apologize, my boy, but this is for your own good."

The awaiting blackness claimed Harry like the sea, and he fought no more. But one thought came to him and circled his unconscious mind relentlessly.

_What in the world?_

**888888**

Harry groaned and opened his eyes blearily. Wherever he was, it was dark, cold, and damp. Not even close to where he wanted to wake up.

His eyes began to adjust to the lack of light, and Harry could make out thick black bars.

Prison bars.

Harry looked down at himself. Prison clothing.

He examined the room frantically. Exactly like a prison cell.

A soft rustling came from the door of his cell, and Harry felt a growing dread. He spun on the spot, and come face-to-face with a Dementor. Harry began to feel woozy, and he saw other Dementors drifting towards the rest of the prison block.

_No way in Hell._

He was in Azkaban. As a prisoner. _Dumbledore _put him there. Harry was getting a headache from the enormity of it all.

Azkaban shook with tortured screams and the cackling of the insane.

**888888**

Safe in Hogwarts, Dumbledore smiled in satisfaction. Threat eliminated.

**888888**

**How was that? Okay, horrid, fantastic? Only way to tell is by leaving a review. Tell me what's wrong and what I can fix, PLEASE, but do NOT send me flames. They make me insanely angry.**

**-MC**

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**EDIT; DEC. 4, 2011: Sorry guys! But this isn't much of an update. I'll be going back and rewriting parts of this to include new ideas that I've thought up. There are some minor changes now, but some MAJOR twists to my original plot-line. So most things will be coming up in updates, but if you have time, just check in every once in a while. Hopefully, updates will be more frequent after I edit it; due to a surge in plot twists and new ideas. Unfortunately, a few things won't be happening in this story, and a few will be taken out…**

**Ex. This won't be Snarry. I'm not sure if I said that earlier, and I apologize if I did, but it won't be. Severus will be more of a mentor and confidant than a lover.**

**Hermione and the twins are GOOD. No bashy for them.**

**This will probably be slash. I'd prefer it that way, anyways. Nothing graphic, of course. I'd rather not be sued because I didn't stick to the rating, thank you very much.**

**Harry's personality is going to change. He'll be slightly less sane than when he entered Azkaban. But who cares? Crazy Harry is _so _much more fun to write.**

**The story doesn't revolve completely around Severus and Harry anymore. Rather, Harry's new life and the 180 degree turn that Fate threw at him.**

**That's probably all, but I'll let you know if there's more.**

**No flames! They'll burn my house down, you idiots!**

**-MC**

**PS: Here's a quick list of current candidates for Harry's partner:**

**Draco Malfoy**

**Lucius Malfoy (I'd rather not, but it's a very VERY small possibility)**

***Tom Riddle/Voldie (He's who I'm aiming for)**

**Blaise Zabini (I probably won't, but only because he's such a small character that **

** I'd have to invent almost an entirely new personality for him)**

**An OC (*growl* this is a worst case scenario. I usually _hate _writing OCs. Especially **

** OCs in relationships with already established characters… *shudder*)**

**Hermione Granger (Yes, I _know _I said slash. Scratch that, I said _probably._)**

**Luna Lovegood (If I do her, almost no romance will be going on. Luna doesn't strike me as someone who's overly involved in their relationship. They'll probably be more like inseparable friends)**

**_NO THREESOMES!_**

**-MC **


	3. Insanity and Suspicions

Chapter Two: Insanity and Suspicions 

**Okay, I _might _have lied.**

**Just a little bit.**

**Updates are NOT going to be as frequent as I said and hoped. **

**In fact, they may be almost non-existent.**

**But never fear! I'm not abandoning this story just yet. I still have tons of ideas (in fact, I've created so many scenes that haven't happened yet that I've got a document labeled 'R and M Excerpts') and I plan on updating when I find the time and motivation to do so. On another note, the dynamic of this story is changing. It's kind of confusing, because I haven't decided on the pairing, and there was a short spell where I didn't want the fic to focus on Severus and Harry anymore. I can't tell you much, cause I'm not sure myself, but I can say that things are going to be shifting for a while. Nothing's concrete at this point, and I'll be constantly editing a little more info and pairing choices, check the AN at the end of last chapter.  
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**DISCLAIMER: You think I could be J. K. Rowling? *Snort* Get your head out of the clouds. Siriusly.**

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**THREE MONTHS LATER~ AZKABAN~ CELL 173, LEVEL SIX**

This was interesting.

Azkaban, even if he was on one of the highest security levels, wasn't turning out to be the torture he had imagined.

He could still hear his mother screaming, and that loud cackle- oh yes, the memories weren't going away. But they didn't have quite the same effect on him as before…

Which should have bothered him, but he didn't bother trying to find out why.

Even if Harry found that Azkaban was great for thinking.

It was quiet (when the Dementors weren't around) and there wasn't much else to do other than think.

The only problem with this was Harry's pending insanity.

You see, when everything was quiet and calm and Harry was thinking, he could _feel _it, he could _feel _his mental stability shaking and twisting, like pillars made of water.

And yet, Harry couldn't really bring himself to care. He didn't fight it, but rather accepted what was to come, because what else was there to do?

**888888**

**ORDER HEADQUARTERS~ SAME TIME~**

Grimmald Place was in an uproar.

Sirius was shouting, Hermione was crying, Walburga's portrait was screaming, and the place was in a general state of chaos.

Of course, they would tell you they had good reason, if you could find someone who wasn't too angry or grief-stricken to speak.

Through it all, three people sat, quiet and still, but all for different reasons.

Dumbledore kept up his image of a mourning grandfather, but was secretly observing them all with scorn. How could you become_ so_ attached to one boy? The prospect was baffling.

Snape was suspicious and watchful. When Albus had told them all that Potter was dead– the old man hadn't specified how– whether by Death Eaters (which he would have known about) or some unknown means. But it didn't escape his notice that Albus hadn't told them anything about this when Potter didn't show up for school, nor any time over the summer, and only now said something when Potter's friends were present for an Order meeting, and the more outspoken members were absent. And what about the Prophecy? Wasn't the Dark Lord the only one who could kill Potter? Severus was missing something, and it made him uneasy. But all he could do was watch and wait.

Ron was bored. He didn't care if that attention-seeker was gone or missing or even dead; as long as Dumbledore hurried and unlocked Potter's vault. Those stupid goblins were all about "honor" and keeping everything "orderly". Apparently, taking money from a dead Savior's filled-to-bursting vault didn't qualify as either.

Finally, almost everyone calmed down enough for Dumbledore to be heard again. Hermione sniffled from her place next to Remus, who wrapped an arm around her on instinct. He himself had tears in his eyes, and was trying to hold back his temper while comforting Hermione and desperately trying to calm Sirius.

"I know that this comes as a shock for all of you," Dumbledore began, "but it is true. My monitoring devices stopped recognizing Harry's magical signature three days ago." Well, really, three months ago, since Azkaban's wards constrict a wizard's core, but he wasn't going to tell them that. "We can only assume the worst." Hermione's shoulders were wracked with silent sobs.

"How did this happen, Albus? I thought you said the wards around the house were impenetrable?" Sirius growled, finally throwing off Remus' arms.

"It is my guess that he left, ran away."

Molly, Mrs. Weasley, gasped. "How irresponsible!" Ginny nodded solemnly.

Fred and George growled from the shadows. How could they be so idiotic? Harry wasn't stupid; he knew not to leave. Something was horribly wrong here, yet no one could put a finger on what exactly it was…

**888888**

**TWO DAYS LATER~ SPINNER'S END~ MIDNIGHT~**

Severus stared moodily at the fire, nursing a glass of wine in one hand and clutching a quill in the other. He had gone to speak with Arabella Figg, who might have known a reason that Potter would have left… the conversation had left much to be desired…

…

_Severus rushed to the fireplace and snatched the Floo powder from the mantle. With a shouted location and a large step, Severus was brushing ashes off his cloak and calling out to Arabella. Honestly, where was that woman when he needed her?_

"_What do **you** want, Severus?" Arabella snapped, a coffee mug in hand and a gray cat curling around her legs._

_Snape almost flinched at her tone; he was here for the very same reason he had scorned her for three months ago. "I need… I need to talk to you about the boy, Arabella."_

_Her eyes lit up. "You mean Harry?"_

_Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I mean the other famous child you were assigned to watch! Yes, Harry." _

_You could say that Severus was in a bad mood. First, he had been wrong about something, which always served to make him grouchy. Then, he finds that he just might have failed to keep a promise he made to the only woman he loved, seventeen years ago. And now, he finds that the object of said promise has disappeared. Probably dead. So, yes, it was most accurate to state that Severus was in a very bad mood._

"_No need to get snappy," Arabella sulked. "Anyways, what did you want to know?"_

"_I need information about the boy's home life. For example, was he happy here? Did the Dursleys provide for him? Where did he sleep, do you know? Was he…" Severus took a deep breath and whispered, "abused?"_

_Ararbella's eyes darkened. "No, no, a cupboard under the stairs, and I think so." _

_Severus swore. So he **had** broken his promise to Lily. "How bad?"_

"_Beatings, I think. He was bleeding a few times when he came outside to work, but he was never cut that I could see. Oh, and the Muggles worked him constantly. He would still be hurt, but have chores to do. Like a house elf," She spat. The cat at her feet glared reproachfully._

_Severus' hands trembled a little. He had never been particularly fond of the boy, especially after the incident last year with the pensive, but he was still Lily's child. With Lily's eyes._

…

Suffice to say, Severus was _not _happy. And now he had to write a report to the Dark Lord, then present it to aforementioned Lord, and pray to whatever messed-up deity was watching this screwed up world that his Lord wasn't in a bad mood.

For even _if _Potter was his enemy, the Dark Lord _hated _abuse. Of any kind. Whether it be his own childhood that influenced his decisions or the fact that someone else got to do the torture first, he didn't like it. And poor Severus was going to have to be the one to give him the news, which didn't bode well for him.

**888888**

**SIX MONTHS~ AZKABAN~ CELL 173, LEVEL SIX~ MIDNIGHT~**

Harry hummed softly to himself and scratched a poem into the floor. The moon filtered through the grimy bars, throwing shadows into the curved engravings… In the distance, a clock chimed, and its deep, mournful tone rolled through the air…

_Tick tock, went the clock,_

_Bar and lock and prison key…_

_Tick tock, went the clock,_

_Blackened hopes and insanity…_

_Tick tock, went the clock,_

_A bloody river flows through halls…_

_Tick tock, went the clock,_

_Dreams and sky are low and small…_

_Tick tock, went the clock,_

_Light and Fae always fear…_

_Tick tock, went the clock,_

_For Darkness keeps the demons here…_

**888888**

**Happy New Year! Hope you had a marvelous Christmas, no flames, and look for an update sometime… Well, sometime later.  
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_**-MC**_

**PS~ That poem is mine. Not sure where the 'tick tock' came from, but everything else is mine. If, for some strange reason, you want to use it, just notify me and give me credit.**

**PPS~ No, before any of you ask, this is not Hermione/Remus. He's more like a father/uncle figure to Harry and his friends. With the possibility of Harry dead, _someone _needed to comfort Hermione. And with Ron being a... you get the point.  
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**Have a wonderful apocalypse! ;P**


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